Garb of Maturity

Back then I’d scream my lungs out,

These days an audible sigh works as grout.

Back then I’d whip myself in a frenzy,

These days an exhausting run is trendy.

Back then moody malady afflicted for weeks on end,

These days control and equanimity help to mend.

Some mistook it for maturity and clearer thinking,

When affording pain is dearer now and the ship’s sinking.

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